


can't let go of this dream

by ThunderstormsandMemories



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7709659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderstormsandMemories/pseuds/ThunderstormsandMemories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is fake dating for mission purposes, and Tracer jeopardizing the success of said mission by being distracted by how pretty Widowmaker is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't let go of this dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in a theoretical future in which Widowmaker has a nice redemption arc and is now working with Overwatch. So is Symmetra. At some point I'll get around to writing the actual redemption arcs but for now have some fake dating.

“This,” Widowmaker said, “is a terrible idea.”

Tracer shrugged. “Maybe. But this terrible idea is the best chance we have at getting the intel we need to finally crack Vishkar.” Widowmaker huffed and looked away, folding her arms across her chest. It wasn’t like she was wrong. Even Tracer was willing to admit that this plan was not exactly Winston’s best. But it wasn’t like they had many other options. According to Symmetra Vishkar Corporation was planning something so big it could upset the balance and tip the world over the edge into complete chaos. She didn’t know any details, though, because that would be too convenient. All she could tell them was that the plans would be stored on a computer at Vishkar headquarters, and that the best time to steal the plans without being apprehended was during Vishkar’s annual charity gala. Which meant someone had to pretend to be one of their wealthy donors in order to gain admission, and because there was no way anyone was allowed to infiltrate Vishkar headquarters without back-up, someone else had to pose as their date.

Tracer and Widowmaker weren’t especially inconspicuous by proper espionage standards, but they were a hell of a lot more suited to this mission than anyone else in Overwatch. Everyone else was either too well-known, too unusual-looking, or too likely to go in with guns blazing and send the whole place into complete lockdown before the data could be retrieved.

So maybe it wasn’t the best plan, but honestly, Tracer thought it might just work. Except for the fact that it relied on her and Widowmaker pretending to be a couple. From a strategic standpoint, it made sense. They’d fought with both with and against each other enough to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and Widowmaker didn’t trust anyone but if there was anyone she respected it was Tracer. They both knew it, and Winston knew it, which is why he put them on this mission together. The only problem, aside from everything that could go wrong the way it always did, was that Tracer actually liked Widowmaker. And it was going to be very difficult to find the balance between showing enough of her feelings to make their fake relationship convincing and hiding her feelings well enough that Widowmaker didn’t realize how real they were.

\---

The crowds made Widowmaker nervous. She was a sniper; she preferred rooftops to dance floors, her own heartbeat to polite smalltalk, solitude to socializing. Although- and she would never admit this- being with Tracer made the thought of the evening ahead bearable.

It wasn’t that she liked her. She was just…amusing. That was it. She was always talking, so it was impossible to be bored around her. And she was a good fighter, which Widowmaker could respect. That was all there was to it. She was the right person to be paired with for this mission, from a tactical standpoint. Which is what mattered. Personal feelings, which Widowmaker definitely didn’t have, had no place here.

Widowmaker showed their invitations to the bouncer, who waved them through. Symmetra’s insider knowledge was accurate so far, which was helpful, though not as helpful as it would have been if her security clearance had still been valid, and then she could have stolen the data herself instead of sending Widowmaker and Tracer to this party.

Tracer, clinging to Widowmaker’s arm and chattering about the weather to anyone who came near enough, seemed to be enjoying herself, and even if Widowmaker was tuning out the specific words, the familiar cadence of Tracer’s voice was comforting. Maybe she had attended parties like this once, in another life, but in this life she needed to focus on the sound of Tracer’s voice to keep herself from getting overwhelmed.

She must have done this before, when she was Amelie, because she felt a sickening sense of deja vu as they wandered deeper into the mingling crowd, and a terrifying feeling that the next man in a suit to offer Tracer an hors-d’oeuvres would have her husband’s face.

She’d stopped walking without realizing it, and Tracer was looking up at her with concern. “You alright, love?” she said softly, and Widowmaker nodded. She was fine. She was a professional, and they were on a mission. This was no time to be distracted by the past, or by how much it meant to her that Tracer was worried about her. It was concern for the sake of the mission, nothing more. Any other possibility was too confusing, too much to process right now. “You sure? Because you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Need some fresh air? If those schematics are right there’s nice courtyard garden through one of these doors.”

“I will be fine,” said Widowmaker. “We shouldn’t deviate from mission parameters.”

Tracer shrugged, and Widowmaker felt like she’d disappointed her somehow. “If you say so,” she said. “We’d better get moving, then.”

\---

The data they needed was on a computer in a locked office on one of the upper levels. They managed to sneak away from the main party without drawing too much attention to themselves, Tracer dragged Widowmaker away by the hand, giggling conspiratorially as if they were leaving to make out in a supply closet instead of stealing highly confidential information. Widowmaker played along with it, only raising an amused eyebrow when Tracer had started blushing while whispering the plan in her ear. She’d gone still when Tracer grabbed her hand, like she wasn’t sure how to react even though they’d just discussed that part of the plan, but she’d relaxed quickly enough that they’d still been able to get away.

Widowmaker had dropped her hand like it burned her as soon as they were alone, and Tracer tried not to be too hurt by that.

The first few locked doors they had to get through were simple enough to override, and things only started getting interesting once they reached the office where the data was stored.

First there was the lock that didn’t pop open immediately, and it took Symmetra a few tries to figure out the combination and relay it to them over the comms. And then there was someone else inside, another thief, because nothing could ever go smoothly.

Widowmaker kicked his ass, because she was Widowmaker and she was more than a match for some small-time crook with a pocketknife, and Tracer was frozen in place, watching her fight. Not that she’d never seen her fight before, but something was different now. Her movements smooth and well-practiced and brutally efficient, even in heels and a dress that could not have been comfortable to walk in, let alone take on someone in hand-to-hand combat. None of that was new. The new part was that she was fighting with Tracer instead of against her, that she was putting her body between Tracer and her opponent, that Tracer could appreciate how beautiful she was, how good she was at what she did, without having to fight back or at least force herself to disapprove of Widowmaker. Now that they were working together she didn’t have to feel guilty about her crush.

Until the fight ended, with the thief on the floor between them, and Tracer was still staring. Widowmaker met her eyes, and her lips parted slightly like she was about to speak. Tracer held her breath.

The thief, taking advantage of their distraction, pushed himself off the floor and scrambled away. The moment was over. Widowmaker lowered her gaze, and Tracer turned her attention to the computer. Which had already been wiped of the data they’d been sent to collect. The thief must have finished the job before they’d arrived. They could chase after him, without knowing which way he’d gone, how much backup he might have, when the building security would notice something was wrong and investigate.

It might work. They might get the data, or they might get arrested. And either way, Tracer would have to live with the shame of failing a mission and embarrassing herself in front of Widowmaker. Widowmaker might forgive her, especially if they successfully retrieved the data, but Tracer would probably never be able to face her again.

Luckily Tracer had another option. And yeah, it was for emergencies only, and yeah, it was dangerous and unpleasant, to say the least. But it was also, in this situation, completely worth it.

Rewinding never got easier or less frightening, and for every time she did it, there would be a few more times when she thought she was rewinding, only to realize she was still in the present, dissociating but not slipping backwards.

She only needed a few seconds, but it was enough that the world blurred around her and she had to clasp her hands together to have something real to keep her grounded. She blinked, took a deep breath. The thief was on the floor between them again, and Widowtracer was looking at her, her eyes narrowed with something that might have been concern. She looked like she was about to speak, but Tracer cut her off. “He has the data already. Search him.”

Widowmaker didn’t ask how she knew, or why she couldn’t search him herself, which was fortunate, since the answer to the first question was something she’d rather not have too many people know about, and the answer to the second was that she felt like she might pass out at any moment, which would give the thief a chance to escape again.

“Got it,” Widowmaker said. “Are you-”

“I’m fine,” Tracer said brusquely. “Let’s go.”

\---

Widowmaker was worried about Tracer. She must have had to rewind for some reason while they were in the office, and Widowmaker had seen her do it enough times to know that sometimes it was worse than others. She’d seen Tracer rewind and then throw herself into a fight like there was nothing wrong, and she’d seen her collapse suddenly, with no enemies around her, and she’d know that she’d just travelled back in time. This time wasn’t at either extreme, but still. Tracer was in discomfort, curled up on the seat of the helicopter that had been sent to extract them, her arms around her chest like she was holding herself together, and Widowmaker wanted to help her.

“You had to rewind,” she said, “didn’t you?”

“How-” Tracer started to say, then shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, I did.”

“Can I ask what happened?” Widowmaker said quietly. “In the version of reality that you… undid?”

To her surprise, Tracer started laughing, and a blush was spreading acros her freckled cheeks. “I messed up,” she said. “Got distracted. Let the thief escape before we realized he’d wiped the computer and taken off with the data.”

Widowmaker frowned, furrowing her brow in confusion. “Why didn’t I stop him?” she said. “Even if you were distracted, I should have been able to cover for you.”

“Well,” Tracer said, “that might have been difficult. You were the one distracting me. I mean. Not really. It wasn’t your fault,” she added hastily, as if that was what Widowmaker was worried about, and then, even more quickly, blushing brighter than ever, “I was too busy watching you fight to check the computer.”

“Oh,” said Widowmaker slowly. She supposed it shouldn’t have been surprising that Tracer had feelings for her. Maybe that wasn’t the surprise. Maybe the surprise was that she felt the same. “The way you said distraction, I thought we might have been doing something a little more interesting.”

“Yeah?” said Tracer, sitting up, her embarrassment slipping away as their conversation fell back into what felt like a familiar cadence. Maybe they’d been flirting for years, and Widowmaker hadn’t noticed. Better late than never. “Like what?”

“Like this,” said Widowmaker, leaning across the gap between their seats to kiss her.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Good Enough by Evanescence, because it fits and also because you can't tell me Evanescence isn't Widowmaker's aesthetic.


End file.
